


violent things

by cbgbs



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Cheating, Drug Use, Happy Ending, Light Smut, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbgbs/pseuds/cbgbs
Summary: Dallon Weekes has a seemingly plain and traditional life. He works a nine to five job at an art gallery, a boring relationship with a girl named Samantha, and a small group of friends. Everything changes when he meets enticing Brendon Urie, who's all flashy looks and an adventurous attitude.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall i wrote this back in 2016 and its like the only fic i've ever finished so i decided to post it

If You Like It Or Not

“Oh my girl, just give me a chance,  
I don't want to explain, I just want to dance,  
On the graves, of every girl,  
That I knew before you, that are dead to me too.”

It’s always a delight, seeing my girlfriend when I’m not expecting it. Today, it was at work. I doing my regular thing, going through submissions, answering phone calls, inhaling paint fumes. Then a girl walked in. Her strawberry blonde hair covered most of her face but I could tell it was my love. She looked concerned for the few seconds she looked around for me. But when we met eye contact, a bright smile was plastered across her face.  
I smiled back. “How may I help you today?” I joked.  
“Yeah, I was wondering if I could buy the piece of art in front of me.” She flirted.  
I leaned over the front desk and kissed her. Her lips tasted like coffee. “What are you doing here?”  
“Well, I got off early so I decided to steal you a green tea.” She placed a paper cup on the table, I could smell the matcha from here.  
“Oh, why thank you, Samantha, for stealing from your job.” I took a sip of the tea. It burned my tongue.  
She giggled and checked her phone. “I gotta go.” She grabbed my hand.  
“Where are you going?” I asked.  
She looked at the ceiling, then at the floor. “The store, I’m, um, gonna make you dinner.”  
“You’re too good for me.” I said. “Text me when you get home?”  
“Yep.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Bye, Dal.”  
Samantha was halfway out the door before I said, “I love you.”  
She didn’t say it back.

 

“Hey,” I said, walking into our apartment. I threw my coat on a dining chair. I untied my bow tie around my neck and unbutton the top button on my dress shirt.  
“Hey,” Samantha responded, standing in front of the stove  
“What’s on the menu today, pretty lady?” I stood behind her, kissing her on the cheek.  
She hummed before finally saying “Pasta and a bottle of Merlot.”  
“Fuck, I love you.” I grabbed her waist and kissed her neck.  
“Hey- Dal, could you get the plates and silver out?”  
“Sure thing, babe.” I let go of her and opened a cupboard, pulling out two bowls and two wine glasses. I walked over to the dining table and set them down, swiftly walking back into the kitchen complex. I pulled a drawer open and pulled out two forks. I set those down on the table as well.  
I heard her turn off the stove as she grabbed the pot of noodles, Samantha walked over to the sink and drained the pasta. I watched her smile at me and turned around and poured red sauce into the pot.  
“Dinner is served.” She grinned.  
I sat down in one of the seats as she dished up noodles for me. God, I’m so hungry.  
“Bon appétit.” She smiled, handing me a fork.  
I took a bite. “Do you like it?” Sam poured me a drink.  
“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.” I smirked sarcastically.  
“You’re such a dick, Dallon Weekes.”  
“Hey, at least I’m eating it.” I took a sip of the red wine.  
“Shut up, you’re making me feel bad.” She pulled up a chair next to me.  
I wrapped my arm around her and kissed the side of her forehead. “I love it, babe.”  
She smiled again and dished some pasta into her bowl. “How was your day?”  
“Some girl gave me a green tea while I was working, I have no idea who she was.” I said, starting up a running joke we’ve had. It started out as teasing her for asking me how my day is every single day. Even if she was with me that entire day. She would ask me how my day was. I would pretend that the Samantha I saw that day wasn’t her.  
“Oh, was she pretty?” She asked, fishing for a compliment.  
“Yeah, beautiful, I think I might leave you for her.”  
A giggle escaped her lips as she elbowed me in the ribs. “Fuck you!”  
“Sure,” I kissed her lips.  
Sam let go and took a sip of her melot. “No but seriously, tell me about your day.”  
“Some kid is gonna get a couple grand for a piece he did.”  
“That’s great! Do you know him?”  
“Nope, but it was like some Van Gogh shit. I liked it a lot.”  
“Nice.” I could tell she was already losing interest. She doesn’t care about the gallery. I don’t mind, seeing how my passion isn’t giving boring tours and handing out pamphlets to middle aged white women that want to be cultural. I quickly tossed the focus of the conversation onto her.  
“How was your day?” I asked, taking a bite of spaghetti.  
She took a deep breath and listed the main plot points of her day. I ate my entire bowl of dinner and drank my glass of wine before she was done. When she was done, she looked at me, “Oh, you’re already done.” She grabbed my bowl and placed it in the sink. “I’m not hungry anyways, I think I’m just gonna save it for lunch tomorrow.”  
“Okay.” I quickly responded, not really thinking. “Do you want help?”  
“No, you can get ready for bed or something.” She suggested.  
“It’s 7:15.” I took a glance at my phone.  
“Oh,” She chuckled. “Well you could put away the food, I guess.”  
“You seem stressed.” I observed, grabbing the pot of pasta.  
“What?”  
“You just seem anxious, that's all.” I set the container on the counter then smoothed out my hair.  
“No, I’m fine. I promise.” She said as I dished the food into tupperware.  
“You can tell me if something is up, Samantha.” I open the fridge as the cold air grazed across my cheeks.  
“It’s nothing!” She raised voice as I grew quiet. Guilt grew in the pit of my stomach, I probably shouldn’t of asked in the first place. I already knew what was wrong anyways.  
I closed the door and grabbed her waist, her body against mine. “Hey, hey,” I soothed “You had a long day, I get that. I had a long day too.”  
I kissed her shoulder as Samantha gently nodded in agreement.  
“And even after that stress-filled day, you still made me a good meal. Let me make it up to you.” I slid my hands down to her hips as I kissed her neck.  
“Dal, I’m washing the dishes.” Sam started, annoyance in her voice.  
“We can do them in the morning.” I mumbled, kissing her jaw.  
“They’re gonna get all gross.” She complained.  
“I don’t care.” I drifted my fingers to her belt buckle.  
“No, Dallon!” She elbowed my arm. I tumbled a few steps back out of shock. She went back to washing the dishes, like it was nothing.  
A few silent moments passed. “Are we not gonna talk about this?”  
“About what?”  
“We haven’t fucked in almost two months!” I shouted, finally saying something that should’ve been said a few weeks ago.  
“Maybe I don’t want to have sex with someone who calls it fucking, Dallon!”  
“Samantha, it’s the same thing.”  
“I’m allowed to say no every once in awhile!” She retorted, refusing to look at me.  
“I just want a fucking normal relationship!”  
“You knew when you got me you didn’t sign up for normal!”  
“There’s obviously something wrong with us if we go from having sex daily to maybe getting to second base every other week!”  
“That’s just what happens with every other relationship.” She took a breath.  
“I thought you said we weren’t like other couples.” I got up and left the kitchen, storming into our bedroom.  
I shut the door and sat on our bed. Sam must of made the bed because the sheets got replaced with our laundry day ones. I let out a breath and relaxed my shoulders. I became completely aware of how exhausted. Maybe I should go to bed early.  
I quickly changed into sweatpants as Samantha walked into the bedroom. She sat down on the bed and looked down on the floor. I sat next to her, waiting for some sort of apology, or sign that I should apologize. She opened her mouth, trying to shudder out words. I wrapped my arm around her before kissing her on the head. “Hey, I understand, you don’t need to say anything.”  
She hugged back, I think we’ll be alright.


	2. Visitation of The Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dont do drugs homies

Visitation Of The Ghost

“She wraps the cord around her arm  
Tries hard to find the little vein”

It feels weird, being in my mid twenties but being in a domestic relationship. I take a look at my life, a kid who is living with his girlfriend of two years, and then I look at my friends lives. They still get noise complaints from their neighbours from playing music too loud, some never had steady girlfriends, some are still in school. I feel like I’m older than them but they’re the same age as me.   
Sam still tries to balance the two worlds of having a job and living with me while still being a young adult, she goes to parties and to bars with her friends almost every weekend. I don’t. I enjoy that life maybe once or twice a month. Tonight is one of those nights.  
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, shirtless, while shaving my face. Sam quietly opens the door and scoots behind me, pulling a tight white shirt over her head. She pulls her phone out and starts playing Pink Floyd off of it, she always has to play music when she’s getting ready. I hum along to “Wish You Were Here” as Samantha pulls out her makeup bag from under the sink.   
“So, do you want me to be the designated driver?” I asked, turning on the faucet.  
“The what?” She asked, pulling out foundation from the bag.  
“Designated driver.” I washed my face for any extra shaving cream I missed.  
“Oh, yeah.” She cakes on the cover-up.  
“Who’s gonna be there?” I grabbed a towel and dried my face.  
“The usuals.”  
“So like, Jess, Johnny, Ethan, and them?”   
“Yeah, I think Johnny has a shift tonight though.”  
“Gotcha.” I grab my dress shirt and start to pull it on.  
“Give me a couple minutes to put on my makeup and we leave. ‘Kay?”  
I started to button up my shirt as I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Okay, babe.”  
She raised her hands to her eyes as she puts on dark eyeshadow. I looked at the bruises on her arms. “That looks like that hurts.” I pointed.  
“Oh yeah, I’m used to them, though.” She blinks.

“What’s your name?”  
“Dallon.” I yell over the crowd.  
“I’m Ryland,”  
“How come I’ve never seen you before?”  
“Oh, um, my friend from high school is here, we just got back in touch.”  
“Who?”  
“Rose Miller.”  
“Oh, Rose? I know her.”  
“Yeah, it was super weird, we’ve been living in the same city for two years and we didn’t even know.”  
“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ryland.”  
“Yeah, we should kick it sometime.”   
“Yeah, that would be great.”  
“My friend is having a party next week if you want to go that, I don’t know if you’ll know anyone but free booze, ya know?”  
“Yeah, that sounds great. Where is it at?”  
“Here,” He pulled out his phone and opened the contact’s app. “Put your number in and I’ll text it to you.”   
“Coolio,” I started to put the digits in.  
“Thanks, man.”  
I handed the phone back to him. “Yeah, no problem. See you around.”  
“Yeah!”  
I looked around, Samantha not in sight. I looked down at my watch. 9:15. I looked around for a good friend. I see a girl with bright red hair. Angela. She would know where Samantha is.   
“Angie!” I called out to the girl.  
“Dal!” She smiled, pulling away from the other girl she was talking to. “Have a drink!”  
“No thanks, I’m driving.”  
“You’re so good to Sam.” She rolled her eyes and then quickly smiled.  
“Speaking of which,” I leaned closer to her ear so she would hear me better over the music. “Have you seen her?”  
“She’s with Finn and Jess in the bathroom. I would be the adult supervision in there, but, ya know…” She motioned to the table setup with alcohol.   
“Thanks, Ang. And have fun with your… Booze, I guess.” I chuckled nervously and spun around to find the bathroom. I walked into a hallroom with a long line leading towards a door. I’m assuming it’s the bathroom. “Excuse me,” I walked pass the line. I twisted the doorknob with my hand, it was surprisingly unlocked. I stepped in and they didn’t even question it.   
“Who sold it to ya?” Jess’ jersey accent intoxicated her voice as she sat on the countertop.  
“Does it matter?” Samantha barked.  
“Yes! I don’t want some sugar water!” Jess pouted. I pulled back the shower curtain and sat down in the bathtub, knees to my chest. “Oh, hi Dally. Barely even notice you and your mile long legs slippin’ in here.”  
“Hey, Jess.” I mumbled.  
“Trust me, it’s the real deal. Sam and I both tried it already.” Finn handed a chord to Samantha.  
“Hmph… Dal, ya having some?” Jess asked.  
“Nah, someone needs to drive you kids home.”  
“What a sweetheart… Okay, I wanna go first.”  
“Okay, Jess.” Sam let out a breath and tied the chord around Jess’ arm. “Ready?”  
“Ready,” She nodded.  
“Okay,” Finn grabbed a syringe and flicked the tip of the needle.   
“Just make it quick, Finny.” Jess pulled out her arm.  
I looked at the wall, wincing at the thought of needles. I heard Samantha quietly mumble “He doesn’t like needles.”  
“He’s seen you do heroin, right?” Finn asked.  
“No, only coke and stuff.” Samantha responds with.  
Yeah, Coke and Acid. No big deal. Sam and I have been together for two years, you can’t hide a hobby like doing drugs. She promised not to bring it into our home and I respect her and her choices. Compromise is key to a relationship. Right?  
“Okay, my turn.” Sam muttered.   
There was silence for a few minutes, then silence for a few more and then suddenly Samantha goes, “Can you feel it, Jess.” I spin my head at them, Samantha is grabbing Jess by the shoulders. Jess’ eyelids are glossy and her lips are parted as she stares at the ceiling.   
“Does anyone see angels in the walls?” Jess asks.  
I chuckle.  
“This song,” Samantha raises her arms up, bracelets jangling. “I can feel it,” She shakes her hips to the music coming from the other room.  
“I can too,” Finn says, his voice rough. He grabs her hips as he follows her moves. My face heats up, the A.C. probably turned off. I look away for a second, only to glance back at Finn and my girlfriend. His hands are way to grabby, but he’s tripping so he probably doesn’t even notice.   
I stretch my legs out, even though the bathtub isn’t long enough for them. Samantha stares around dreamily before looking at me. She walks away from Finn and sits at the edge of the bathtub.  
“Hey,” I smiled.  
“Hey,” She placed her hand on my cheek and kissed me. I automatically kissed her back before letting go. She lowered her hand down my torso. “I wanna feel something,” She kissed me again before trying to reach down for the belt.   
I pushed her away, “Whoa, whoa, hey… Don’t do that.”  
“But, I wanna-”  
“You’re high, Samantha.”  
“But,”  
“I think it’s time we leave.”  
“Where are we going?” She starts to get up, but before I answer she’s already walking out the door.  
I quickly chased after her. I frantically said goodbyes in a sea of people while grabbing her wrist. “Have a goodnight,” I said as I opened the front door and walked into the apartment hallway.  
“Do you think Dorothy wishes she could’ve stayed in Oz?”  
I laced my fingers with hers. I think I parked my car a few blocks down. “Sure… Do you think you can walk down these stairs?”  
“Yeah,” Samantha says, tripping over her own feet.  
“Okay, come here.” I wrap my arm around her waist as her arm goes around my shoulder. I don’t even think she knows what’s happening right now. I walk to the edge of the stairwell and attempted to carry her from the side while I walked down the first steps. “Not too bad, we can do this.” I breathed through my teeth.  
“What?” She looked at me and then at the floor. “When did we leave the party?”  
I sighed before letting out a chuckle.  
We walked down a couple flights of stairs before reaching outside. The cold air brushed up against my cheeks as Samantha shivered.  
I grabbed my keys from my back pocket and then went back to holding Sam’s hand. “You okay?”  
She didn’t respond.  
We walked to the car as I opened the door for her. She climbed in and messed with the car mirror. I buckled her seatbelt as well.  
By the time I got in the car, she was asleep. She so beautiful, her tan skin and blond hair. I love her with all my heart.  
I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter because you can so clearly see that me from two yrs ago didn't know a single thing about how drugs work and how people act on them, anyways i hope yall liked it


	3. Second Boys Will Be First Choice

Second Choice Will Be First Choice

“Second boys will be first choice to somebody better than you.”

Tuesday, I think it’s the 3rd or the 4th. The sun is already down by the time I park my car by our home. My day was long and tiring and I need a shower. My stomach grumbles. I think there’s left-overs still.  
I slide into the apartment complex and wait at the elevator. God, today was so draining, I hope Sam doesn’t want me to stay up for long. I don’t think I can.   
I step into the elevator and press the button that says “4” on it. I check my text messages. Someone started a group chat for Jess’ birthday, they wanna surprise her. Another text shows up from an unsaved number.

1 (323) 555-6892 (7:07): hey this is Ryland from the party, just texin’ ya to remind ya that my friend Pete is throwing that party on Saturday  
Dallon (7:07): Right! I almost forgot, what time and where?

He didn’t reply. I put my phone in my pocket and watch the doors slid open. I walk down the hallway and open my door. I didn’t think it would be unlocked because Samantha told me she gets off at 9. She probably just forgot to lock it.  
I walk straight to my room, already undoing my tie. I twist the doorknob and look at my bed.   
I can’t believe my eyes.   
I blink and look at our bed, our room. I see Samantha, underneath the sheets trying to cover herself, and I see a man standing next the bed, no shirt on. I register who it is. Finn. From the party.   
“Dal, it’s not what it-” Samantha starts.  
“What the fuck!” I hiss.  
“Listen, Dallon, it isn’t-” Finn starts.   
I stagger towards him, I have half a mind telling me to punch him in the face and another telling me to punch him in the throat. My blood is boiling, adrenaline clawing down my spine and tearing through my veins, but my face is calm. I grab his wrist, trying to make his arm bleed with my nails as I pull him out of our bedroom.   
“Dallon…” Samantha follows us out of the room.  
“If I ever see you with her again…” I muttered, clenching my fist.  
“Dallon, don’t hurt him!” She starts.  
“Why shouldn’t I?” I barked at her before opening the front door. I shoved him into the hallway and looked him in the eyes. “You better hope I never see you again.”  
I slam the door and take a breath.  
For a few seconds there was silence.  
Then there wasn’t.  
“Dallon, I made a mistake-” Sam spiraled into an excuse.  
“What?” I started. “You made a mistake? A mistake is when you lose your keys or forget to water the plants. This isn’t a mistake.”  
She looked to the ground.  
“Are you at least sorry?” My eyes grew wider.  
“You of all people should know that love makes you do crazy things.” She meets eyes with me.  
My chest grew heavy as it felt like someone stabbed me in the gut and twisted the knife.  
“Love? So you love him, huh? Were you just lying all the times when you said I was the love your life?” I raised my hands.  
“I still love you, Dal! I never stopped loving you!” She raised her voice to the volume I was at.  
“So, who do you love more? Do you wanna move in with him? Because, we both know he has more in common with you!”   
“What is that supposed to mean?” Her brows furrow.  
“Who do you want to be with, Samantha?” My temper rises.  
“Fuck… God, Dallon, I don’t know… I don’t know.” Sam’s voice quiets down.  
“Right,” I scoff “Because you’re just a confused junkie. Sorry, I forgot.”  
Her face doesn’t have any emotion in it. She spins on her heels and walks into my bedroom.  
“Where are you going?” I follow her.   
She opens a drawer and grabs my clothes. She tosses them at me. “Get out.”  
“Where would I go?”  
“Does it look like I care? Stay at a friends, rent a room at a motel. I don’t want you in my house.”  
She’s being childish, she can’t really kick me out. Samantha walks passed me and goes into the living room.  
“You can’t be serious.”  
She opens the door and pushes me out of the doorway and into the hallway. “We’re done, Dallon Weekes.” She slams the door.   
“Fuck.” I mutter. I practically run down the hallway and into the elevator.   
My phone buzzes. I do my best not to drop any of the clothes on the floor while pulling out my phones. It’s Ryland. He sends me the address to the party. At least I can look forward to that.  
I arrive at the ground floor and push the front door open, racing outside.   
I get into my car and start to call Jess. Maybe I can stay at her place for a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a short one bc i think i just wanted to race to the part where they meet which i believe is in the next chapter! so if ur like dying to get to the part where dallon meets brendon then you're in luck


	4. Small Cuts

Small Cuts

“All of the good kids,   
Will darken their eyelids,  
Cover in make-up,  
And uncomfortable dress,  
They just want attention.”

“What do you think?” I sat on the couch, staring at Jess.  
“Think about what, Dally?” She looks up from her phone.  
“Should I go to the party?”  
“Yes, you should’ve gotten a rebound by now!” Jesslyn pushed her hair out of her face.  
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Jess…” I haven’t had a one night stand since I was twenty-one. That was almost three years ago. Fuck.  
“You should just go out and socialize. I’ve literally only seen you on tumblr for the past week.”  
“Shut up. I watched the get down.”  
“Yeah, because I made you watch it.” Jess looked at me and then smiled and widen her eyes. “Pleeeeeaaaaase.”  
“Don’t look at me like that… Stop it! Fine, I’ll go.”  
“Yay!” She gave me a hug. “But shower first, Dally.”  
“Good idea.”

I arrived to the party about 30 minutes after it started. The host’s front lawn was covered in dried leaves and muffled music made the sidewalk vibrate. I open the front door, I haven’t been to this big of a party since college.  
I think a Galaxie 500 song was playing. “Tugboat.” That’s the song title. I walk around to find Ryland. I find him talking to a girl with bleached tips. Maybe they’re together or something.  
“Yeah, Gabe is-” Ryland meets his eyes with mine. His pupils dilate and his mouth spreads into a grin. “Dallon! I didn’t think you would make it!”  
“I sent you a text saying I was.” I let out a polite chuckle.  
“Oh, I-” He pats on his pocket then looks up confusedly. “Where’s my phone?”  
“I think Nate still has it.” The girl responds.  
“Fuck, where is he?” Ryland looks at her.  
“Smoking a joint outside.” She says.  
“Okay, be right back. Um, converse with each other.” He steps away.  
The girl looks towards me. “Vicky.” She puts her hand out.  
“Dallon.” I shake her hand.  
“How do you know Ryland?”  
“Met him at a party last week.” I stated.  
“That bastard. Always trying to make new friends.” Vicky says sarcastically then laughs.  
“How do you know him?” Are you two dating?  
“We’re in a band together.”  
“Get out. What do you play?”  
“Keytar.” She says blandly. “It’s like this guitar-piano-y-”  
“You play the keytar? That’s so cool!”   
She flashed a wide smile to me. “Really?”  
“Hell yeah!”  
“Do you play any instruments?”  
“A few here and there, I'm not in a band or anything…”   
“Right…”  
There’s silence for a few moments. I hope that Ryland comes back at any moments. I can’t make small talk.  
She looks me up and down, rolls her shoulders and then looks me in the eyes. “Why are you here?” Vicky practically says to herself.  
“What?” I look at her with wide eyes.  
“I mean… You aren’t actually here for Ryland, right?” The girl tilts her head in confusion.  
I sigh. I’m not a sob story. I can be honest about why I’m here. “I’m recently single, and I’m putting myself out there.”  
“She dumped you, huh?” Vicky suggests.  
Technically, yes. But, someone had to rip the band-aid off. “She cheated on me.” I frowned.  
“Yikes. Umm, okay, let’s see here.” She stands to my left and scans the room. “See that girl over there? The blond one? That’s Lily. She’s single. Go talk to her.”   
“Thanks, Vic.” I started to walk off.  
“Don’t call me Vic.” She said behind me.  
I walked up to Lily and said the first thing that came to my mind. “I like your shirt.”  
She looked down at her shirt and then back at me. “Oh, you like the Smiths?”  
I hate them. “Yeah! They totally rock!” I say, she smiles at me. “I’m Dallon; by the way.”  
“Lily.”  
“Yeah, I know. This might be a bit embarrassing but I thought you were cute so I asked my friend, Vicky-” I pointed to Vicky. She waves. “-who you were.”  
She giggles, covering her mouth with the red plastic cup in her hand. “Well, I’m glad you did, Dallon. Do you want something to drink?”  
“Yeah! Totally!”  
“Here, lemme show you where the kitchen is.” She grabs my hand, the cold metal of her rings pressing against my skin, and pulls me out of the living room and into a separate room.  
There is a boy and a girl looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. The boy kisses her and then whispers something in her ear. She giggles.  
“Get a room.” Lily says sarcastically to the couple.  
“Do you see a room around here, Lilian?” The boy turns.  
“How are the two of you still acting like you guys are in the honeymoon stage? You two been dating since, like, ever.” Lily asks.  
“We’ve only been dating for seven years.” The girl responds.  
“And you guys are twenty-three?” Lily asks, then she turns to me. “What do you want?”  
“Surprise me.” I respond.  
“I’m actually twenty-two.”   
“Did I ask, Jonathan?” Lily smiles.  
“Yes.” He smiles back.  
“Lay off, Jon.” His girlfriend says. Lily hands me a drink. Looks like cool-aid. “Who’s this?”  
I take a sip. Jesus. So much vodka. I put out a hand. “Dallon Weekes.” I sourly say.  
“Cassie.” She shakes my hand.  
“Jesus, Lily! Are you trying to poison the guy.” Jon says.  
I try to get rid of the sour look on my face. “No, it’s fine.” I take another sip. “Not too bad, actually.”  
“I’m not gonna sit here and let you harass me, Jon Walker. Let’s go, Dallon.” She scoffs and then smiles at me. We stride back into the living room. “Do you wanna sit down?”   
“Yeah,” I looked over at the couch.   
“Okay.” She sat down as I followed. “How come I’ve never seen you before?” I really stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I? “Not to be mean, Dallon, but it seems like I know everyone at parties, at least their name and face, and then this mysterious, attractive man shows up. I can at least ask where you came from, right?”  
“You have to at least go on one date to reveal my tragic backstory.” I rolled my eyes before moving a bit closer to her face.  
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” I could feel her breath on my lips. She moved a bit closer.   
Before I could kiss her, I heard chanting coming from the entire room. “Kiss him! Kiss him!” I turned away, thinking that it was directed to Lily. But it wasn’t.  
I tried to register what was happening. Two very drunk men were standing on the coffee table. They both had cans of beer in their hands as they looked around the room. The chanting continued. The two boys turned to each other and kissed. It was an obvious drunken kiss, barely placing their mouths on the others.   
I wonder if they were together. I wonder if they’ll be together after this. Although, I don’t even know these two strangers, I want them to be in love. Or to at least fall in love.  
I shook my head. Why do I care? Maybe I’m just lovesick. Two men in a relationship are the complete opposite of what Samantha and I had. Maybe it will work out.  
The room cheered. It wasn’t really a happy cheer, more of a surprised cheer, like they didn’t expect this to happen tonight. I looked over at Lily. She didn’t seem to cheer like the rest of them. A frown replaced her smile.  
“You alright?” I asked. “You look like you’re sick.”  
“Don’t you think they shouldn’t be doing that?” Lily spat, refusing to take her eyes away from the couple.  
“What?” I blinked.  
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m no homophobe-” Lily started. “-but for them to just rub it in our faces like that, it kinda ruins love for the normal people. Ya know?”  
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I lied between my teeth. “Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom.” I got up. Maybe I can just text Ryland saying I got food poisoning or something. I can just leave. I headed for the front door. Fresh air is what I need.  
I stepped onto the front lawn. I see a silhouette sat on the curb. I breathed in the autumn air and felt the leaves crunch under my feet.  
I got closer to the person. It was a boy, maybe a year younger than me. He had dark hair and a slender torso.   
“Fuck off, Ryan.” He hissed, not even looking at me.  
“Who?” I watched my breath turn white in the air.  
He looked at me, tears down his cheeks shined in the moonlight. “Sorry, thought you were someone else.”  
“Are you okay?” I asked.  
“Yeah,” He dried his cheeks with his sleeve. “Why do you ask?”  
“Because-” I sat down next to him. “-You’re crying.”  
“Umm, yeah. I don’t know if you saw or not but, Ryan and Gabe kissed in front of everyone.”  
“I have no idea who either of those people are.” I let out a chuckle. “I assumed it was the two dudes kissing though.”  
“Ryan is- I mean, as of tonight, was, my boyfriend.” The boy looked at me. I got a good look of him. His chin and jaw were defined but his lips were big and pouty. He had a cut on one of his eyebrows and he was wearing a Metallica shirt.  
“So he just kissed another guy in front of everyone?” I quirked an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, pretty much. Ry isn’t good with sharing his feelings so I guess him kissing somebody else was his way of saying it’s over.” He threw a rock onto the street.  
“At least my ex was almost discreet about it.” I stated.  
“You’ve been cheated on?” He scoffed, like nothing tonight has been real.  
“Last tuesday is when I found the two together.” I bit.  
“I just-” He started, “He wasn’t perfect. Ya know?” I can relate, I dated an addict. “But, I just thought… Fuck.” He put his face in his hands.  
“Hey, hey.” I rubbed his back. “What’s your name?”  
“Brendon.” He groaned.  
“Brendon, listen, Ryan is a sick fuck. You’re better than him. You’ll find love again. I promise you.”   
That’s when it hit me. Samantha will stay being this barista addict who cheats on people that are to good for her. I’m better than that, I could do better than that. I just need that thought in my mind and I will be alright.  
“Really? You don’t even know me.”  
I held out my pinky. “Pinky-promise.”  
He chuckled. A smile spread across his face, revealing his teeth. He’s too cute to be cheated on. He wrapped his finger around mine. “What’s your name?” He asked, not letting go of my finger.  
“Dallon,” I didn’t let go either, “Dallon Weekes."


	5. Better Than Me

Better Than Me

“Beautiful and smart and no good for me,  
At all”

 

Jesslyn leaned against the doorway, her hair tied up into pigtails and her work uniform on. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought it was Samantha. They work at the same coffee shop. They both moved to Los Angeles because their small town in New Jersey wasn’t good enough. Jess kept the accent as a reminder of where she came from. Samantha reinvented herself, no need for an accent.  
“Mornin’.” I rubbed my eyes. I propped myself up, stretching my arms above my head.  
“Mornin’.” Jess smiled.   
“What’s up?” I yawned.  
“Although I love watching you walk around the apartment in your underwear, Dal, I was gonna ask if you could do laundry. It’s your day off and I gotta get to work soon.”  
“Yeah, no problem.” I nodded my head.  
“Thanks Dally.” She grinned and spun around on her heals.  
I listened to her leave, shutting the door behind her. I got up.  
“I need tea.” I mumbled to myself, walking into the kitchen. 

I grabbed my jeans from the washing machine. Maybe there’s a few dollars in the pockets. I pulled out a piece of paper. I tried to make out what it said.  
“@auberginefevers  
(Brendon’s tumblr)”  
The whole night came rushing towards my head in an instant. A flash of memories hit me like a train. I forgot we exchanged social medias. Well one social media. I don’t have instagram, never use twitter, and facebook has regretful statuses from high school. I don’t want anyone seeing that. We decided tumblr was our best bets.   
I turned on the washer and walked into the living room. Maybe I should follow him or contact him. Or something.  
I sat down on the couch and reached for Jess’ laptop on the coffee table. I pressed the power button.  
“Fuck.” I muttered, being introduced to a locked computer. I need a password. “Hmmm.” I hummed. My hacking skills are limited but I know enough about Jess to figure out a password.  
Let’s see here. Her lucky number is 11. I think I remember her telling me that it’s because she moved from New Jersey in 2011. Did she seriously move when she was 18? Wow.   
I peered around the room. Her cat got up on the windowsill. “Hey, Pickles.” I said in a singsong voice to the feline. Maybe it has something to do with the cat. I typed “pickles11” into the computer.  
“Your password is incorrect.” The computer read back to me.  
“Damn.” I said flatly.  
I looked around. Pickles pawed his way into Jess’ room.  
Wait-- What town is Jess from? Neptune? Or was it another planet.  
“Neptune11” I typed.  
The computer unlocked. I grinned. I quickly opened a web browser and went to Tumblr. The internet went as slow as me running a 5k. Slow and steady wins the race. Only I don’t know what I’m winning here. The power of friendship? Will we even talk to each other or awkwardly follow each other and forget each other? I guess I’m going to find out.  
His theme was pastel colors. Milky pinks and soft blues hit my eyes. From a kid with clean cut hair and rock n roll tee shirts, I didn’t see him as the pastel type. His blog was titled “folkin’ around” and it was mostly pictures. Pretty things, flowers and guitars.   
I scrolled down a bit more to see legs and pink lace, barely covering someone’s--  
I shut the computer. I inched my eyes at the door. Jess isn’t home, she won’t be home for hours. I slowly open the laptop and tried to make out what I was seeing.   
I swallowed. It was Brendon. He posted it. It must be him.   
He wore some Victoria Secret shit with velvet-looking socks that went up to his thighs. The lingerie were small and see-through so I could see everything. Lemme tell you, he isn’t lacking in that department. I needed to scroll down because I could barely manage to tear my eyes away from his package.   
Obviously, Brendon thought it’s a good idea to post a picture of the lingerie from the back side. I leaned back into the sofa. I don’t have enough integrity to have good posture. This picture is forever cemented into my brain, I looked at his curves in great detail. The way the bottom of his spine curves, the way his ass pokes out at the bottom of the panties. I felt my jeans get tighter. Fuck.  
I scrolled down and shook my head, thinking of a weird explanation from this. I bet it was just because of the lingerie. My body is attracted to the clothing not the person. Obviously.  
I pressed the follow button. Maybe I should message him.   
Opening the message box, I typed; “Hey! This is the tall loser from the party, Dallon. Just messaging to say hello.”  
He probably won’t respond for a while. I scrolled through his account a bit more.  
Brendon reblogged a selfie. He seemed a bit familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was about to scroll down until I noticed the tags. “I love you, Jon!! <3” It read.   
I closed the browser without thinking. I don’t feel like scrolling through Brendon’s blog anyway.  
I yawned. Maybe I should take a nap. I put the laptop to the side and lied on the couch. I closed my eyes.  
I was already drifting away into my unconsciousness, counting sheep, but my eyes opened in haste at my phone buzzing.  
I yanked the phone from my back pocket and unlocked it. It was a text from Samantha. Great, she's definitely going to help get me out of the mood.  
“When are you going to get your stuff? I don’t like looking at it.” She wrote.  
“Why? Can’t live with yourself with my shit around the house?”  
“I’m working tomorrow so you can get it then. I don’t want to see you.”  
“Likewise, your mistress better not be there either.”  
She didn’t text back. Whatever. I don’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as much as i don't like the word, this chapter was kinda "cringey" for me to read. Like wow, 2016 me was really thirsting over brendon urie cross dressing


	6. Love At First Sight

Love At First Sight

“Could this be love at first sight,  
Or should I walk by again?”

“If I could do something I would, Dal.” Jess defended herself.   
I felt like I’ve been punched in the gut yet I’m not angry. I understand completely what Jess is going through. “Give me a day. You can’t expect me to find a place to live at this time of night.”  
“Yeah, fine, but my landlord wants you out by the end of the week. He thinks you’re basically squatting. Besides, I don’t want the boys I bring home to be talking to you in the morning while you’re making them toast.”  
“But, I’m a catch!” I argued, a smile forming on my face.  
“Yeah, you might steal them from me.” She giggled.  
“Okay, yeah. I’ll look for an apartment tomorrow.” I got up, pulling my coat on.  
“Where are you going?” Jess quirked an eyebrow.  
“To get a drink.” I smiled. I need to take the edge off. It’s been a hell of a day.

I was on my second beer, already. Tasting the warm ale as it went down my throat. The bar seemed pretty busy but that because it was Saturday night. I took a sip.  
A boy sat down next to me. “Scotch?” He asked the bartender.  
His voice left shudders crawl up and down on my back. Brendon. I silently glanced over at him. Admired his face in actual light. Stubble traced his defined, tight jaw and his lips were a light pink.  
“Didn’t see you as the scotch type.” I took a sip of beer.  
He wasn’t surprised to see me. “Why? Didn’t seem gay enough?” He quirked an eyebrow.  
I chuckled. I confess to thinking he was apart of those stereotypes. “Yeah, something like that.”  
The bartender put the glass on the table. “Here you go, sir.”  
I watched Brendon take a sip of the drink, staring at his adam’s apple bob. “I tried to contact you on tumblr. You didn’t respond.” I stated.  
“I couldn’t. Was to embarrassed.” The boy admitted.  
“What do you mean?” I tried to play dumb, I knew he realised I saw his pictures.  
He shook his head and laughed. “Never mind.” He stared into his glass.  
This felt like the third time I was introduced to his features. Like I was seeing it all for the first time. Yet nothing was new about him.  
“Here.” Brendon turned to me, not looking me in the eyes. “Give me your phone.”  
“My what?” My eyes widened.  
“Your phone, Dallon.” He rolled his eyes and glanced at my face. “I’m gonna put my number in it.”   
“Oh, okay.” I shrugged, pulling my phone out and placing it in his hands.  
I looked at the brunette as he tapped his thumbs on the screen. “Here you go.” Brendon handed it back to me, his fingers touching mine.  
“Thanks.” I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I turned back to the bar. I took a sip of my beer as he followed, tasting his drink.  
“So, what are you doing here?” He inquired, his voice low and husky.   
“I’m obviously here with all of my friends.” I rolled my eyes, motioning to the empty seats next to me.  
“Why are you really here?” Brendon bit.  
“I got kicked out from when Samantha broke up with me, so I’m crashing at my friend’s house. She’s kicking me out as well. Just-- Moving is stressful, ya know?” I rambled.  
“Yeah, you bet.” He rolled his eyes. Then Brendon turned to me, looking me up and down. “Actually… I have a spare bedroom. If you need a place to crash. Scratch that, I need a roommate.”   
“You need a roommate?” I scoffed, pretending like I haven’t already made up my mind a dozen times over in my head. “Yeah, sure.”  
“Really?” He smiled.  
“No need to make a big deal out of it.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Make me.”  
“Hey-- Do you wanna--”  
“Get coffee?”  
“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The bright fluorescent lights of the coffeehouse blinded me. We quickly found out that we both hated coffee and laughed. So, Brendon and I had tea instead. Brendon had a chai tea and I drank a green tea. We also shared a slice of banana bread. We probably spent more time in that coffee house than we did at the party and at the bar combined. Giggling over normal things like normal people.  
“This date is way better than a lonely night at the bar.” He grabbed a piece of banana bread and shoved it in his mouth.  
“A date, eh?” I quirked an eyebrow and took a sip of my tea.  
“Hmm?” Brendon blushed. “Must’ve slipped off the tongue.”  
“Sure.” I laughed. I could get used to living with this kid.


	7. Goodnight Socalite

Goodnight Socialite

“In the darkest corner of the house,  
I found her body there”

I walked into the kitchen, the smell of french toast filled the room. I rubbed my eye and smiled. “Mornin’”   
Brendon was already up, I suppose. His hair was clean and wet and his chest was bare. He stood in front of the stove, spatula in hand. He smiled at me. “Hey!”  
“Making me breakfast?” I suggested.  
“Fuck off.” He chuckled. “This is the last thing you’ll ever see me do before 8 am.”  
“I appreciate you making me food because I am too goddamn tired to even think about that.”  
“You’re welcome.” He turned off the stove and put two slices of french toast on a plate.  
“Merci.” I smiled as he put the plate in front of me  
“I aime vos cul.” Brendon said in a flawless French accent.  
“I have no idea what that means.” I admitted.  
He chuckled. “It means… Uh-- put on pants.”  
“I will in a bit. But, speak for yourself, you’re not wearing a shirt.” I looked down at his torso then back at him.  
“Shut up and eat ya damn food.” Brendon smiled, sitting across from me.   
I took a bit of my breakfast. “So… I need to ask you a favor.”  
He hummed in agreement, as an encouragement to go on.  
“My girl- My ex-girlfriend-” I corrected myself “-wants me to get my stuff.”  
Brendon quirked an eyebrow, unsure on where he fits into this equation.   
“I’m afraid someone maybe home. Like Samantha or even the guy she was seeing.” I lied. Truth is, I just wanted him to come with me. I feel like if someone else was there I wouldn’t want to stay. Despite my utter hatred for adultery and that fucking dickhead she was dating or fucking or whatever you want to call it; I still dated her for two years. I lived in that apartment for two years. Moving in with Brendon is my chance to get a new home. Him being there will remind me that Samantha and that chapter in my life is over. “So I was wondering if you could come with me. So I have someone to make small talk with if it gets silent and awkward.”  
“Yeah, sure.” Brendon looked at his phone, scrolling through tumblr.  
“Okay, we have to leave at nine.” I said.  
He shook his head as a reflex, refusing to look in my eyes. Brendon wasn’t paying attention.  
“Brendon!” I clapped my hands in his face.   
The boy shuddered and looked up at me with wide eyes. “What the fuck, Dal?”  
“Go put a shirt on, we’re leaving in five minutes.”  
“Okay, hold on.” He ran into his room.  
“I’m gonna get ready!” I hollered down the hall, stumbling into my room.   
I slipped into my jeans and took off the Dodgers tee shirt that Brendon let me borrow for the night. I pulled on a purple button-down and combed through my hair with my fingers.   
I heard a knock on my bedroom door and Brendon walked in. “Hey, do--” He looked me up and down. “Do you only wear dress shirts?”  
I looked down at my outfit and then back at him. “Yeah?”   
“Ugh, you straight people.” He scoffed.  
“Hey, you’re wearing a crop top!” I pointed at his chest.  
“So?”   
“It’s November.” I stated.  
“We live in LA.” The boy defended himself.  
“It’s raining.” I lowered my voice.  
“Shut up.” Brendon pirouetted to his room.  
“Make me.” I followed him into the hall.  
“Is this what you want?” He threw the shirt he was previously wearing at my head.  
“I would like you clothed.” I rolled my eyes.  
“That’s the first time a boy has ever said that to me.” Brendon stated. “I also don’t believe it.”  
“Yeah,” I bit, sarcastically. “Everyone knows how much I’m in love with you, Brendon.”  
He pulled a black shirt over his head. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” He smirked at me.  
I felt my face turn red. Brendon flashed a smile as he pulled a flannel over his tee. “We gotta jet, Urie.”   
“Then let’s go, Weekes.”

“I fucking hate elevators.” Brendon sighed.   
I jumped in the small room. The elevator shaft jolted up and down before continuing to go up.  
He hit me in the side. “Don’t do that!” I hit Brendon back, he leaned up against the wall. He grabbed me by the wrists. “You’re a dick, Dal.”  
I scoffed, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Shut up.”  
Brendon took a step closer to me, I noticed how small he was compared to me. Maybe a half foot shorter. “Make--” He got cut off by the elevator doors opening.   
I motioned to the hallway. “After you.”  
“Such a gentleman.” Brendon scoffed, stepping away from me.   
I laughed behind him.  
“Which room is it?” He asked.  
I glanced down at his hip and then back up at the back of his head, trying to get the images that I saw on his blog out of my mind. “2G.”  
“2G” The boy mumbled to himself, staring at the doors as we walked past them.  
“Right here.” I pointed.   
“Oh.” Brendon said.  
I flipped the welcome mat over and grabbed the spare key. I unlocked the door and walked into the apartment.  
She hasn’t cleaned since I last saw her. Dishes and trash were on the coffee table and her clothes were on the floor. Maybe she’s taking the breakup hard.  
“Feel free to steal the lingerie.” I told Brendon. “I resent the girl so you can take whatever.”  
Brendon gave me a confused look. He looked away for a seconds and then his eyes widened. “You’ve seen the pictures?”  
“Sadly.” I laughed.  
“Fuck off.” Brendon bit.  
I walked to the bedroom door and opened it. Samantha laid on the bed. At first, I thought I was brought back to when we were dating, she was staring at the ceiling thinking about life. But then I realised she was sleeping. The blonde didn’t turn her head when I entered our bedroom.  
I took a step closer. Her skin was paler than usual and her limbs were stiff. Samantha’s eyes were open. I peered at her body, taking an even closer look. A belt wrapped around her arm and needle in her veins.  
My mouth grew open. I was speechless. Brendon, stood next to me. He gulped. “Is she..?” He refused to finish the sentence.  
“Dead?” I finished for him “Think so.”  
“God!” His voice grew louder. “Why do I alway have crushes on the freaks!” Brendon turned around. He started to make run for it.  
I grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”  
“You killed her! I’m not letting you kill me either!” Brendon shouted. I pushed him up against a wall. He squirmed underneath me. “Get off of me! You-”  
I covered his mouth with my hand. “Keep your voice down.” I scolded him. “I didn’t kill Samantha.”  
He quirked an eyebrow. I let go of him.  
I walked over to dead body and pointed to her arm. “She had an overdose.”  
“She did drugs?”  
“Yes.”  
“We need to call someone!”  
“Okay, call someone.”  
Brendon pulled out his phone. “Yeah, we found a body at my friend’s old apartment.”  
I looked at her, like it wasn’t even real. I could see every vein in her body and her lips were a shade of purple. Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin seemed dry. I tuned out Brendon’s panic and wonder what happened. Was Finn here? Did he just leave her to rot? Anger boiled at the pit of my stomach. I feel guilty for having the thoughts of justice. Like she deserved to have this man who she had an affair with leave her to die because he didn’t really care about Samantha.  
I don’t think I care either.  
I’m looking down at this dead body, horrified because a human is dead. But I look down at this person and feel nothing. I look up at Brendon and the emotion comes back. A jolt in my gut tell me to hug him. He looks terrified.   
“What?” Brendon looks like he’s about to burst into tears.   
I wrap my arms around the boy, his stubble scratching my neck and his breath shuddering in my ears. “What did they say?”  
“They will be here in 20 minutes.” He said against my chest.  
“We can leave, if you want.” I suggested.  
He pulled away, rubbing his eye. “Yeah. But what about your stuff?”   
“I’ll get it when there isn’t a dead body in the room.”  
He laughed, trying to lighten the mood.  
“Let’s get out of here, Bren.” I grabbed his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Bike Ride

“Oh, I’m in hell,  
I’ve got to tell someone now.”

It’s weird living in days since.   
Fourteen days since the breakup.  
Eight days since moving out of Jesslyn’s house.  
Seven days since Samantha’s death. Or the discovery of it.  
Five days since I officially moved in with Brendon.  
I sat in the living room. The curtains were drawn, it didn’t matter it was pitch black outside anyways. The city was silent-- Or as silent as it can get in LA. The TV played the familiar claymation film we watched last night. And the night before that.  
Five days since Brendon and I started watching Nightmare Before Christmas nightly. We can’t sleep or at least I can’t. The only thing between my lap and Brendon’s sleeping head was a pillow tucked underneath his brown hair.   
Brendon tries to stay up with me. I know he does. But he has ADHD, which is the neurochemical equivalent to a seven year old having a sugar rush. When that sugar rush fades away, it’s bedtime for ol’ Brendon Urie.   
I pulled out my phone. It’s 4:36 am and I have work in the morning. Luckily, it’s a monday so it will probably be slow, but I still dread the morning light.   
The cell phone vibrated in my hand. It was my mother. What does she want? I accepted the call.   
She was definitely surprised when I answered. “Oh-- Dallon! I was just about to hang up! I realized what time it is there.”  
“No, it’s fine, mom.” I yawned. “Still in London?”  
“Paris now!” She laughed.  
“That’s great, ma.” I sunk into the couch. When my sister and I moved out, she divorced my dad and married another rich man. Now she’s retired and traveling the world.  
“You still work at that art gallery? God, you’d love all the art and culture here.” She bragged.  
“Yeah, I’ve wanted to go to France since I was five.” I muttered.  
“Oh, yes. I remember. All the other mothers thought you were a queer when you said you wanted to live in Paris.”   
I looked down at Brendon. He knows French.  
“Listen, Dallon. I heard about your girlfriend. I’m sorry for your loss. Samantha was such a nice girl.”  
She had a heroin addiction.  
“Yeah, thanks, mom.” I sniffed.  
“I could come back to America and stay with you for a bit. To help out around the house. You’re still living in that one bedroom apartment, right?” She investigated.  
“No, I moved out.” I started. “Couldn’t afford rent.”  
“Oh, you know California. Liberal and expensive.” She chuckled “Should’ve never moved out of Utah.”  
“Yeah, but I have a roommate now, so you don’t have to come down for moral support.”  
“It better not be that Jesslyn girl. She may seem innocent but I know her type.”  
“It’s not, mom.”  
“Oh, Dallon. I have to go. I’ll call you back.” My mom excused herself.  
“Bye. Love you.”  
She hung up.  
I closed my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb. My chest swelled up and my breath became uneven. I started to cry. “F- fuck.” I stuttered out. My mind wasn’t expecting to break down, for tears to stream down my face as I sobbed for the first time in a very long time. A headache that was created in the back of my mind from stress shot forward to the front of my brain. My body and emotions caught up with my experiences.   
I thought I was under control. My life was something I could steer around shitty situations. But now, I’m overwhelmed and I know it. Stress and anxiety go hand in hand as they rain down and destroy me.  
I look up at the screen. “--Grown so tired of the same old thing.” Jack sang.  
I chuckled through blurry vision. I was definitely getting bored of the same daily routines. Boy, did I get a new exciting life.   
Brendon turned on his back. His eyes staring up at me.   
I wiped my cheeks with my sleeves. “Mornin’”  
“Are you okay?” He asked.  
“Yeah.”   
“I can suck your dick, if you want.” Brendon smiled, sarcastically.  
I burst out a laugh. “Nah, it’s fine.” I paused. “You really wanna get in my pants, don’t you?”  
“You have no idea.” He rolled his eyes.  
“Shut up.”  
“Make me.”


	9. Chapter 9

The Nerve

“You’ve got your little campaign,  
A dirty, little smile.  
A snap inside my left brain,  
It’s something that I haven’t heard in quite awhile.”

I wince at the idea of being in public. After I leave work, I lock myself in our apartment. I don’t answer Jess’ phone calls and I don’t respond to my friend’s texts. I don’t want to be around them. I don’t want to be around anyone who doesn’t understand what it’s like to be cheated on or have ever looked death straight in it’s lifeless eyes.  
There’s only one person who has experienced both. He’s the one who made the suggestion that we go out tonight.  
It’s monday night. Who would even be at a club?  
The answer is: a lot of people.  
The dance club was swarming with drunk kids looking for a good time. Some were up against walls whispering sweet nothings into each others ears. Others were grinding on the dance floor. Brendon and I? We were sitting at the bar.  
Brendon tried yelling over the music.  
“Huh?” I yelled back.w  
He grabbed my shoulder and put his lips up to my ear. “I don’t have card on me.”  
“I thought you were paying. I didn’t bring mine either.” I said back.  
“I have a plan.” Brendon stated.  
I pulled away, quirking an eyebrow. He motioned the bartender over and pull back the hem of his shirt, revealing his defined collarbones. What is he trying to do? I watched Brendon’s go from his chest to resting underneath his jaw, sliding his fingers over his neck.  
“There’s no way this bartender is gonna go for it.” I mumbled to myself. The bartender doesn’t even look gay.  
Brendon motioned the boy closer, like he needed to tell him a secret. Brendon sat on top of the bar and whispered something into the bartender’s ear while putting his hand on the other’s chest. A smirk spread across my roommate’s face.  
I felt jealous. This was the same feeling I felt when I was sitting in a bathtub, watching my ex grind against her secret lover while tripping on heroin. Why was I jealous? I don’t feel the same way about Brendon then what I did for Samantha. The love we shared was messy and complicated. The love Samantha and I had was confusing. Maybe that’s why we didn’t work out.  
Brendon’s smirk turned into a smile, pulling away. I watched the word “Drinks?” slip from his lips.   
The bartender shook his head and brought the two of us drinks.  
“Impressive.” I grinned at Brendon.  
“I know.” He scoffed.  
I rolled my eyes at him. He’s too cute for his own good.

Being drunk means you don’t feel drunk. Or feel that the other drunk people around you are drunk. Brendon and I are in our own little drunken bubble.  
We escaped from the club through the back door. Standing in the alleyway, he laughs for no reason. I smile at Brendon.   
“Okay, I think we should--” I started “I think we should get an uber.”  
“Good idea.” Brendon continued to laugh. He pulled out his phone and looked for an uber.  
“Why are you laughing?” My face hurt from smiling.  
“Because I’ve never seen you drunk before!” He leaned against the brick wall.  
“I am not drunk!” I defended.   
“Yes you are. I am too.”   
“I can tell!”  
“So you’ll only get wasted if there is free drinks?” Brendon asked.  
I laughed. “You just have all the answers, don’t you?”  
He slid his phone into his pocket. “You know me.”  
“What did you even say to that bartender?” I inquired.  
Brendon grabbed my arm and pulled me close. He purred in my ear, saying practically pornographic things. I swallowed. My body temperature rose and my jeans felt tight.  
“It’s not a big deal, I’m used to--” He started. I grabbed his shirt and slapped the brick wall with my hand, my fingers right next to his head. Brendon flinched.   
I relaxed my face. “I wasn’t going to hit you.”  
“I just thought I said someth--”   
“Just, shut up.” I said.  
“Make me.” He whispered, glancing between my eyes and lips.  
I did. Brendon stopped talking as soon as his mouth was with contact with mine. It wasn’t a sober kiss. I could tell from bold tongues and strings of saliva that trailed between us as we caught our breaths.  
I kissed him again. Brendon kissed back. Grinding my lips against his realized that it didn’t have to be confusing. Love shouldn’t be confusing or a chore. I didn’t have a moral obligation to be pinning him against a wall. Brendon didn’t either. I wanted to be here, kissing him. End of story. Goodbye. Nothing more than that.  
I learned something tonight. Words don’t justify actions. Samantha and I exchanged a thousand “I love you”s to each other. Yet, she still poured lighter fluid on my heart and put her cigarette out on it; watching it burn into soot. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.   
True love is when they listen to you scold your exes on a curb instead of going to a party without you. Love is when a boy makes you french toast because that boy feels like doing something nice. It’s when he tries to stay up late with you because you can’t sleep, yet he falls asleep on your lap anyways. It’s what Brendon and I exchanged in the alleyway, behind a club. It’s something that’s happened way before you kiss. The “I love you”s only matter when that person acts like they love you.


	10. I Will, Tonight

I Will, Tonight

“The only trouble is,  
You’re gettin’ hard to resist”

He was on my mind all day. I would stare into space at the front desk of the art gallery, thinking about Brendon. His lips, waist, hair, smile. Everything about him made me weak in the knees.  
I’d like to say last night ended with him falling asleep in my arms and the day starting by waking up in his bed. But it didn’t. That was best case scenario.  
The night ended with us looking at each other from across the hallway. I kissed him goodnight and then I tried to fall asleep. This time it wasn’t the stress or guilt keeping me up. I stared at my ceiling and replayed the scene of us making out behind the alleyway. I couldn’t wipe that grin off my face even if I tried.  
I think Brendon wants to take it slow because I’ve never been with a guy before, but he more than just a guy.   
I raced home, probably leaving work a few minutes before I should’ve and walked through our apartment door. Brendon walked out of the bathroom, already in a big tee-shirt and pajama pants. He smiled at me. “Hey Dal.”  
“Hey.” I walked across the living room to him.   
“How was work?” The boy looked me up and down.  
My eyes fell to his lips. “It was--” I started before kissing him. Brendon fell against the wall, putting his hand on my cheek and tracing his thumb against my jawline. I moved my mouth down to his neck. He tilted his head back and let out a small whimper.  
I tugged at his shirt. Brendon put his hands on my chest and pushed back a little bit. “Hey, Dal? Are you okay with this? We can stop if you want to.”   
I gazed at him. “I couldn't stop think about it.” My mind was spinning. I kissed him. “I wanna do this.” He nodded and pulled off his shirt.   
I growled and pressed my lips against his. I felt myself getting hard as the boy toyed at my buttons. He laughed against my mouth, having trouble taking off my shirt.   
We stumbled into Brendon’s bedroom. He pressed his forehead against mine as my shirt slid off my shoulders and onto the floor. Brendon wasn't hesitant when unbuttoning my pants and sat me onto the edge of the bed.  
He pushed my legs apart and got on his knees. I pulled my jeans down to my mid-thigh and combed my fingers through Bren’s hair. He looked down at my lap, eye-lids glossy. The boy yanked at my briefs and bit his bottom lip as looked at my length.   
Brendon looked up at me. “Can I?” His eyes wide.  
“You can do more than just that.” I let out a chuckle.  
He smirked and held the shaft, licking the beads of pre-cum on the head. Brendon slipped it into his mouth, tracing the top with his tongue. I grabbed his hair as he started to take a couple inches into his mouth. The boy’s spit slid down past his lips, making me grab the sheets I was sitting on. I moaned out, closing my eyes.   
I felt him back away. My stomach ached with want. I opened my eyes and stared at him. He stood up and discarded his pants. Pastel blue satin fabric covered him. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. I leaned forward and kissed him. Brendon sat on my lap and grinded his ass against my cock.   
I slipped my shoes, jeans, and underwear off as I grabbed his hips. I pulled the fabric to the side and slipped a finger inside of him. Brendon rolled his head back and sweared. “Dal-- Fuck-- We need lube--” He started.  
I pulled him off of me and pushed him onto the bed. He grabbed the clear bottle on his bedside table as I pulled his underwear off. I coated my fingers with lube and stuck two fingers into him. Brendon squirmed underneath me as I thrusted my hand back and forth.   
“Fuck-- Dallon--” He moaned. I leaned closer, biting his collar bones and leaving hickeys. The boy combed his fingers through my hair. He reached his hand down at my shaft and stroked it. “Please, Dallon--” He started.  
I pulled out my fingers and slowly inserted my cock. “Fuck--” I cursed, moving my mouth away from his neck. “You’re so tight.”   
He whimpered underneath me. I could already tell he is the best I’ve ever had.


	11. Le Velo Pour Deux

Le Velo Pour Deux

“Le Velo Pour Deux or something like that,  
And that’s what I’ll say to get you to ride away with me.”

I pulled away, beads of sweat dripping down my face and my chest heaving. “Good morning.” I smiled at him.  
“Mornin’” He sleepily looks at me.  
“What do you wanna do today, baby?” I wrapped my arms around him.   
“Not watch Nightmare Before Christmas.” He laughed against my chest.  
“Fuck off, it’s a good movie.” I smiled.  
“Not if you seen it everyday for like two weeks straight. It’s not that good.”  
“Let’s go on a date.” I blurted out.  
He looked up at me. “Really?”  
“Why not? We can go somewhere fancy.” I suggested.  
“You’re forgetting we’re broke.”  
“I can give you a tour of the Gallery. We can get in for free. They wouldn’t mind.”  
“Okay.” He got up. “I gotta go shower though.”  
“Dress nice.”

We arrived at the art gallery around 11. Brendon and I held hands as we walked down the street, making a game to crunch every leaf on the sidewalk. Brendon wore a white button up and suspenders.  
“I tried to dress nice.” He started, scratching his neck. “But the hickies you left on me aren’t that formal.” I stared at the bruises on his neck. Fuck, did I really do that? It looks like he’s dating a vampire.   
I stepped into the art gallery, his fingers tangled with mine. A familiar face was at the front desk. It was my co-worker, William. He looked up from the files he was looking at and gave me a surprised look. “Dallon! Isn’t it your day off?”  
“Yeah, I’m here on a date.” I nodded my head.  
He looked at me. He knows that Samantha passed away, not sure if he knew that she cheated on me and kicked me out. “Wait… Who's your girlfriend?”  
“Um…” I looked at Brendon. “This my boyfriend, Brendon.”   
“So, you’ve been gay this whole time?” He blurted out.  
Brendon rolled his eyes, I repressed a chuckle. “You work in an art gallery, William, the concept of bisexuality shouldn’t be new to you.”  
“But men can’t be--”  
“I’m gonna take a free tour of the gallery before I get you fired for being homophobic. We don’t need a guide.” I pulled my boyfriend behind me as I walked passed William and into the display room.   
“Jesus, Dal.” He whispered. “Who knew you could be such a badass. The first week I dated a Ryan, someone called me a slur and I awkwardly said thank you. Now of course I’m able to call people out on it but still--” The boy started. I gazed at him, taking every detail of his face in. Taking every freckle in. My chest swelled with comfort, like the feeling you get of traveling for weeks and then coming home and collapsing on your own bed. Like you’re finally home again.  
“Can I kiss you?” I said over his ramble.  
“What?”  
“Well, I don’t know if you’re comfortable with me kissing you because we’re in public and all, so I thought--” I trailed. He stood on his tiptoes and met his lips with mine.   
He pulled away. “Do you see anyone in this room?” I looked around. No middle aged white moms looking for culture in this display room. They’re all hoarding in another room though. He tugged on my sleeve. “Show me some paintings.”  
I turned to the nearest painting. “Okay so… We get a lot of paintings from the psych ward. This one is from a girl with dermatillomania. I dunno. All of the peach colors are supposed to represent skin and the pale blue lines are supposed to represent the veins. I dunno, people just usually like the color scheme and the way each shade flows into the next.”  
“Wow.” He yawned. “You really know you’re stuff.”   
“Fuck off, I don’t deal with the psych ward paintings. I deal with donations and such.”   
“Okay. Show me a donation art piece.” He suggested.  
“Umm, okay. Here.” I pointed to another one. “This one is called Testosterone Boys. It was giving by a donor who went by G.R.R.” I stared at the piece. Usually a painting with that much object detail, it’s in a comic or cartoon-y art style but this kept it’s renaissance art style but with a modern scene. It was two boys sitting in a car. One behind the driver’s wheel, his face covered by his hands. The other one sits in the passenger seat. He reads a magazine with a burlesque girl on the front cover and an ad for cigarettes on the back. He holds a glass of champagne which doesn’t make sense because they seem young.   
“Yeah, I’ve seen this one before.” Brendon says glumly.   
“You have?” I asked.   
“Well not the actual painting but I was there.” He said.  
“What do you mean?” I gave him a blank stare.  
“G.R.R.? Yeah that stands for George Ryan Ross.”  
“You don’t mean…”  
“I’m that kid drinking champagne and reading the magazine. And that’s Ryan.” He pointed to the boy in the driver’s seat. “Jesus. That was prom night. He said it was lame so we ditched it and went to the outskirts of Vegas. I stole champagne from my mom and we got drunk. I use that term lightly. We just said we were. I was barely buzzed and he was almost completely sober. That’s the night we first like, hooked up, you know? God, I can’t believe he sold an snapshot of him taking my virginity from me to a stupid midtown gallery. Wait, shit-- It’s not stupid, I didn’t mean that--”  
“This gallery is fucking stupid.” I admitted. If I had a successful music career I would leave this place to rot in a heartbeat. “If it makes you feel any better he didn’t sell it. He donated it.”  
“That makes it worse.” He bit.  
“I didn’t know that he painted that. I didn’t even know he painted.”  
“He doesn’t any more.” Brendon clarified.  
“Let’s look at another painting.” I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to a new painting. “Uhh. This one. This one is the underdog of the group. Because of it’s size, it is usually ignored.” I looked down at the small painting. It had surrealism art style of a couple riding on a bike for two with the eiffel tower behind them. “The donor is anonymous and I have no idea how to pronounce the name. Especially in front of you. You’ll probably hit me if I mispronounce a french word.”  
“What is it?” He asked.  
“Here.” I handed him the card with the title.  
“Le Velo Pour Deux?”   
“Yeah, been in this gallery before I was even working here and I still don’t know what it means.”  
“What do you think it means?” He glared at me.  
“I don’t know, for all I know it could be about horses.”  
“The bike for two, Dallon. The bike for two.”  
“That makes sense.”  
“Okay, try saying it.” He handed the card to me.  
“El Vi-low poor doo.” I said quickly. Brendon laughed. “Am I amusing you, Urie?”  
“I love you, oh my god.” He said inbetween laughs.  
I know he didn’t mean it. His “I love you” was just a way to express his joy for my stupidity. But I wanted him to mean it.  
“You say it.”  
“Le Velo Pour Deux.”  
“El Velo Poor Deux.”  
“You’re saying el.”  
“What.”  
“It’s Le. Also you’re saying Poor. It’s Pour.”  
“Le Velo Pour Deux.”  
“Finally.” He rolled his eyes before spreading a smile across his face.   
I kissed his forehead and a thought sprouted in my head. A song lyric. Le Velo Pour Deux, or something like that. And that’s what I’ll say, to get you to ride away with me.  
“Come on. I’ll buy you a tea. This gallery is shit.” I grabbed his hand.


	12. Chapter 12

All Of The Drugs

“The sad thing is the boys all say he’s something of a slut.”

The front door creaks open. Keys jangle in hand and I look over at Brendon, confused on who has a key to the house.   
“Hello!” A voice shouts out.  
“Fuck.” Brendon whispers. “It’s Ryan.”  
“What do I do?”  
“Hide in Jon’s room!” He pushed me down the hallway and into the guest’s room.  
I shut the door and put my ear against the wall.  
“What are you doing here, Ry.”  
“I came to get my stuff… And to talk to you.” Ryan responds.  
“I think you said it all at Pete’s party.”  
“Listen, babe. You know I do stupid things when I’m drunk. Things I don’t mean.”  
“Don’t babe me! And last time I checked, Ryan Ross, you kissed me for the first time when you were drunk. And you said I love you for the first time to me when you were drunk. So if you do things you don’t mean when you’re drunk that just proves our relationship didn’t mean anything to begin with.”  
“What?”  
Brendon groaned. “Get your stuff and leave.”  
“But, Brendon… I meant what I said. Every single time I said I love you, sober or not. I meant it. I still love you, Bren.”  
“Don’t touch me!” He raised his voice.  
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you still don’t love me.”  
“Eat shit, Ross.”  
“Look me in the eyes and tell me.”  
“I don’t love you. Never will. I love someone else.” He said. I grinned to myself. He loves me.  
“What? Who?”  
“It doesn’t matter, but he already lives with me and we were meant for each other.” I rolled my eyes. Now he’s just bragging.  
“Is he here? God, I will fucking destroy him.”   
I heard a door slam open. Then another one. Then another one. Then the door between me and the hallway opened. Without warning, he knuckles hit my nose.   
“Brendon is mine, you hear me?” Ryan spat.  
“You have some real protective problems for a boy who just tossed out Brendon like a used tissue.” I rubbed my nose with my sleeve, and then looked at the stain that the blood left. “Secondly, since when do you own people? Brendon isn’t some prize you can show off to your friends. Lastly, you must be a fucking idiot to move out here with your highschool sweetheart and just lose it all on one kiss you had while hammered.”   
“Dickhead.” He bit. He turned to Brendon. “I’ll get Jon to get our stuff. We moved in with Cassie. There needs to be some space before we can be friends again.”  
“Yeah.” He nodded his head, apathetically.  
Ryan left with a slamming of the front door.   
Brendon’s head fell into his hands as he started to weep. “Bren,” I started. I put my hand on his shoulder blade, rubbing his back.  
He leaned his face into my chest. I kissed the top of his head. “Hey, hey” I reassured, wrapping my arms around him. “It’s okay. I’m here.” The boy wrapped his arms around my waist. “You’re safe,” I whispered. “I love you.”


	13. Chapter 13

Boring

“Don’t wanna be bored anymore.”

“Brendon!” I half whispered, half hissed.  
He grumbled and turned over, drooling onto his pillow.  
“Brendon!” I put my hand on his arm.  
“What?” He mumbled.  
“Wake up!” I smiled.  
“Huh?” He glared at me. I hope he was squinting from not seeing anything and not because he was giving me a death stare. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”  
“4:30.”  
“Shit.” He pulled on his glasses. “Did you sleep at all?”  
“No.” I don’t sleep much these days. “But that’s not why I woke you. I wrote you a song.”  
“On what? You don’t have any instruments.”  
“I found the keyboard in your closet.”  
“Okay. I’m up.” He sat up.  
I pulled the boy out of the bed and dragged him to sit in his closet. I sat next to him and pulled the keyboard over our laps. I turned it on and pressed some keys.   
“Vampires never have to complain,” I started. “Of living a dull circumstance.”  
I looked at Brendon, he had a smile across his face.   
I closed my eyes. “So let’s all pretend, that we’re undead, in the turn of century France.”  
My fingers playfully touched the keys and formed chords like all the notes in the world that forms chords were meant to be in this order. This chords were meant to be in this order.  
“I want--” I huffed. “--the love on your wrist. Oh, give me the heart on your neck.”  
I looked at him and smiled. “And it would be fine, to spend my whole life, with you, together.” I pressed my nose against his. Brendon’s breath tickled my chin. He leaned in for a kiss. I pulled away before our lips could touch. “Parlez vous,” I belted, probably waking up the neighbors. He laughed. “Or something like that. Le velo pour deux, or something like that.” I nodded my head at him and chuckled. “And that’s what I’ll say, to get you to ride away with me.”  
An interlude started. I hummed to the piano and swayed. Brendon followed my movement and swayed with me.  
“And it would be so fine, to spend my whole life with you. On a bicycle built for two.” I sang, ending the song. I bit my lip and looked at him.  
“Run away with me?” Brendon stared at me.  
I laughed. “Sure, baby.”  
“No. I’m serious.” Brendon furrowed his brows.  
“Where would we even run away to?” I inquired.  
“How ‘bout France?” Brendon suggested. “You have a passport right? We could buy cheap one way tickets. I could teach you french and--”  
I kissed him.  
He cleared his voice and looked down, confused on why I did that.  
“That means yes.”   
“Really?” He scoffed, now the one in disbelief.  
“I mean, I think I have French citizenship because of my mother anyway.” I shrugged. “Why not?”  
“I love you.”  
“I love you.”

It’s always a delight, seeing my boyfriend when I’m not expecting it. Today, it was on the floor of our closet. Tomorrow, it’s France.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you made it this far i <3 u kachow


End file.
